Search This Blog

Friday, June 10, 2016

Duncan found that mornings always came too quickly and he thanked whatever luck it was that meant he didn’t have to work until the
afternoon this particular day. He slipped into the warm, Beau-scented space the older man left
behind and went on dozing when his Top got up to his own early-morning alarm. He woke when his lover leaned down to demand a
kiss before he left for the day.

“I’ll be home by six; you’re finished at five, hm? I expect you home by
no later than five-thirty – that’s plenty of time to deal with any rush hour traffic
you might encounter, Dun,” Beau said, tone one of warning.

Duncan clung to him, arms tight around his neck. “I will, Beau, I
promise,” he grinned, sleepy still. Beau smiled and settled him into the
sheets. “Please get up no later than nine, my boy. You can’t sleep all morning
or you won’t sleep tonight. I love you; I’ll see you tonight.”

Warm, comfortable, Duncan didn’t respond other than to wave him away as
he was tucked back into bed. He saw Beau fiddling with the alarm clock and he
knew he was resetting the alarm, but he simply closed his eyes and went back to
sleep.

…

It
was six on the nose when Beau pulled into their double lane and parked his SUV.
There was no sign of Duncan’s beat up pickup and he held back the sigh that had
started to make its way out of his mouth. He wasn’t really surprised – this was
a weekly occurrence for them.

He
grabbed his briefcase and went inside. Dinner was prepped and put in the oven
with a timer in no time before he retreated to the solitude of his office upstairs.
From there he could look out on the street and wait for Duncan to come home.

He
didn’t need to be able to see him to know he was coming – his truck made more
racket than a warzone on a good day. He heard it long before he saw it, and he
stood from the work he was doing to watch at the window.

He
went down the stairs when Duncan had slammed his door shut. His brat found him
halfway down the stairs, looking very formal still wearing his business suit.
Duncan grinned at him, always quick to play innocent.

“Duncan
Weston, what time is it?” Beau asked as he went down the last four steps.
Duncan dropped his shoulder bag and hung his coat on a hook. “Uh, five thirty?”
he asked, kicking his steel-toed boots off. Beau looked pointedly at them until
he put them in the boot tray neatly.

“Try
again, Dun,” Beau said.

He
looked around the solid wall that was his Top and shrugged helplessly – he
couldn’t see the clock. Beau casually raised his arm and looked at his watch.

“Six
forty-three. You are an hour and thirteen minutes late, my boy.”

Duncan
almost shrugged, but he wasn’t that stupid. He could hear the anger in Beau’s
voice – no, not anger, he thought. Disappointment. With his boots and coat
properly away, he stood and gave Beau his most winning smile.

“I
got caught up on the site, Beau. It won’t happen again,” he promised.

Beau
lifted a brow at him, arms crossed as he leaned against the bannister.“What was so important that you couldn’t
leave?” he asked him. Duncan shrugged one shoulder, trying to move past him.

“Nothing,
Beau. Work. I was working,” he said, stomping when Beau didn’t move out of his
way.

“And
what did I say to you this morning?”

Duncan
rolled his eyes very obviously with a loud groan. “Be home by five-thirty. I know. But it’s stupid, Beau. You don’t have to be home at five-thirty, so why do
I?”

He
knew he was getting out of hand when Beau fixed him with the Look, but he
couldn’t seem to stop this train-wreck he was on. He glared back; chin up in
defiance.

“I
work until five-thirty, Duncan, and my drive takes longer than yours. Your
shift is over at five. We have discussed this, I thought to death by now, but
obviously the last spanking didn’t register or something?” he asked. Duncan
hated when he did that, and he hated the way he was leaning so casually, as if
they were discussing a rugby game or something.

“Well,
I had work to do, Beau! I can’t just put everything down and say ‘sorry, my
boyfriend wants me home by five-thirty!’ and leave them in a lurch!” He was
stomping his foot at intervals, his own arms crossed over his chest.

“You
are to be home at exactly five-thirty, Duncan. Whether or not I am here to see
it is beside the point. You promised
me this morning that you would be home on time. Your work does not have to be
completed; those projects can run into the next day. I am not asking you to
walk away from a crane dropping the roof onto the house or from a cement truck
pouring a foundation – but nobody would be stupid enough to start something
like that so late in the day, and you know it. Let me guess, you were working
on shingling?”

Duncan
bowed his head, anger dissipating as Beau spoke.

“Duncan.”

“Yes,
Beau. I was shingling. And you know I
hate when it’s not finished, what if it rains
tonight and the roof were to leak! It would be my fault! And besides, if I left
it then someone else would finish it before I got in tomorrow, and the pattern
would be all wrong and I’d have to see it every day when I drive by and I can’t
stand that.”

“Were
there others still on site, Dun?” he asked. Duncan flushed and shook his head.

“Why
was that?” he asked him.

Duncan
frowned.“Because it was time to go
home,” he admitted, knowing he was in the wrong.

The oven timer
went off and Beau hesitated a moment. It was too annoying to ignore, however,
so he took Duncan by the wrist and led him with him to the kitchen. “Corner,
hands behind your back,” he directed, and Duncan went without a sound while his
Top got their dinner from the oven.

He felt like he
was there for a long time, years
even, before Beau finally called him from the corner. He took his time making
his way over to his Top, head down.

“Duncan, tell me
again what the rule is?” he asked, casually.

The boy sighed.
“Home by five-thirty on weeknights. No staying late. No working alone,” he said
the last with a very furrowed brow.

“And which rules
did you break, my boy?” Beau asked, and waited.

“All of them?
But Beau, I couldn’t just leave,” he
tried again, which only earned him a swat to his behind.

“No, Duncan. You
follow my rules because they are important to us and to our relationship. You
do not get to pick and choose which ones you’re going to follow and when. You
follow all of them, or there are consequences. Am I right?”

Duncan’s nod was
very slow. He didn’t protest as Beau pulled a chair out from the table and sat
down, drawing him to his right side. He did squirm when he realized what was
happening and he tried in vain to escape Beau’s strong grip as the older man
pulled him over his lap. Duncan’s hands went to the floor to support himself
while Beau’s left arm wrapped around his waist to keep him secure on his knees.

“Our rules are
in place for a reason, Duncan. When you work late, we miss out on time that
could be spent together. You also run the risk of being hurt and nobody knowing
anything because you are alone on a construction site!” he added. “I cannot
stress enough how dangerous that is, my boy. And you know that.”

Duncan squirmed
as his pants were pulled down, followed by his boxers. Pale behind exposed, he
exploded in movement, trying to get off his lover’s lap. But Beau held him fast
and wouldn’t let him move.

“Lie still
Duncan! You’re only going to make this worse,” he warned, and the boy flopped
back, wailing. Beau’s spankings always hurt, and this was no exception. His
hand felt like a strap or a paddle as it landed on Duncan’s behind again and
again.

He didn’t let
the boy up despite his squirming; when Duncan threw a hand back to cover his
butt, the man simply pinned his wrist with a strong hand and went on smacking.
It took nearly three-dozen swats before he was satisfied. Duncan sank to the
floor in front of him, burying his face in the man’s stomach with a sob.

Beau rubbed his
shoulders and smoothed his hair back gently while the boy cried. “That’s my
boy, you’re alright now. Deep breaths, baby,” he soothed. It took some time
before Duncan settled enough for him to pull him up from where he knelt on the
floor to hug him hard. Duncan sniffled and nuzzled him roughly, earning himself a
kiss to his temple.

“Alright, Dun.
We’re okay now,” Beau promised. "We'll try again tomorrow. Hopefully your butt can remind your brain when it's quitting time," he teased the brat in his arms with a grin. Duncan groaned and sank down in his lover's arms with a mutinous whine.

The red numbers on the alarm clock changed from 1:36
to 1:37, and Duncan rolled onto his back and looked to the ceiling. He had been
awake since just after one a.m. and he was having a difficult time getting
himself back to sleep. He cast a glance at his partner asleep beside him, on
his stomach in his usual leopard-lounging-in-a-tree position, and he sighed
with some annoyance.

Why was Beau always able to sleep at night? Duncan came home exhausted from
work most days, body aching from heavy lifting and climbing scaffolding and
working with heavy machinery – he should be able to fall asleep
instantaneously! Meanwhile Beau, who worked in a skyscraper in an office
day-in, day-out, was able to fall asleep when his head hit the pillow.

He tried his best to lie still, willing himself to relax. But when he glanced
at the clock and it had only hit 1:39, he let his exasperation get the better
of him and he cautiously slid out of bed on his side. He barely had his feet on
the carpet before he felt Beau’s hand on his elbow, drawing him back down.

“Where do you think you’re going, Duncan?” he asked, sleep making him sound
hoarse. Duncan resettled where he was drawn, under Beau’s heavy arm. He felt
his Top’s hand caress from his shoulders to his butt where he gave him a
warning swat.

“It is bedtime, my boy. You know the rules,” he said, and Duncan chewed his lip
momentarily before he recited: “stay in bed all night unless it’s to go to
the bathroom. If you can’t sleep, try breathing exercises or some other silly
thing your silly Top devises.”

That earned him another swat, this time to his hip, though it wasn’t meant to
hurt. “And if nothing helps?” he prompted, and Duncan finished in a rush “then
wake you up and talk it over. I know, Beau, but it just seems senseless.
You have to work in the morning and I don’t want to keep you awake because I
can’t sleep!” he protested.

He saw Beau start to sit up in bed beside him. “And who gets to make the
decisions regarding my sleep around here, Dun?” he asked the brat.

Duncan ducked his head, peering at him through long lashes. “You? But
Beau, I really don’t think that’s fair to you that I’m going to keep you awake.
I mean, I know you think it’s okay, but it’s really not good for you to be kept
up like this? Your REM sleep has been interup- Ah!” he yelped as Beau pulled
him over and swatted his behind three times, hard.

Duncan let out a sigh, beginning to realize that he was not going to get
his way this time. “You do, Beau,” he mumbled. He felt Beau’s heavy hand come
down on his behind again before he was easily dumped back into the sheets,
adjusted so he was pinned under Beau’s arm and the quilts drawn over him.

“Lie still and count to five,” Beau instructed. “Five things you can
see; four you can hear; three you can feel; two you can smell; one you can
taste.” The arm around him was somewhat comforting Duncan had to admit. His
familiar weight kept him pinned to his side and he did as Beau had asked.

Without closing his eyes, he found five things at hand to think about:
the rumpled sheets pulled up around Beau’s head, the way the light from the
window cast shadows on Beau’s bare chest, the dark brows slightly furrowed as
his lover started to fall asleep once more, his own hand lying palm-flat on the
sheets beneath him, the tan of his own skin from hours spent working outside in
the sun.

This kind of activity always calmed him down, forcing him to focus on
something other than the thoughts that usually ran rampant in his head on
sleepless nights. He listened carefully and caught four sounds easily: Beau’s
light breathing, the sound of an owl from a distance, the rustle of his feet on
the bedding as he turned under Beau’s arm, the wind whistling through the open
window.

He could feel Beau’s heartbeat when he touched his palm to the man’s
chest, which always calmed him down, knowing he was real and there beside him;
the cool wind coming from the window to touch his hand that was touching the
bedsheets.

Smelling was always the hardest for him. Two things he could smell, when
there were no baked goods or coffee brewing or anything else to taunt his
nostrils? But as he burrowed closer to Beau, he found he could smell the
lingering remains of his aftershave and his cologne, and when he kissed his
bare shoulder he could taste the salt of his sweat.

It was enough. Feeling sleepier now, he pressed himself closer to Beau’s
warm chest and closed his eyes. It didn’t take long for the comforting sound of
his Top’s light breathing to put him out.

“How long are
you going away for, Beau?” Duncan asked from where he was sprawled on the bed
watching his Top pack his suitcase. He had a hard time keeping the whine from
his voice, which earned him a grin from his partner.

“Five days,
tiger,” he reminded him. “Are you going to help me pack or are you just going
to lounge, Duncan?” he asked, reaching to pull the sweater from under his boy
to fold up and pack neatly amongst the rest. Duncan rolled onto his stomach,
head pillowed on his arms; he shrugged as Beau continued packing.

“I’m going
to miss you, Beau,” he whined after a while, lower lip slipping out despite his
best efforts. “Five days is a long time to be home alone,” he whispered.

Beau leaned
down to kiss his pouty boy, running a hand down his back. “I know, darling.
That’s why you won’t be alone, tiger; you’ll be staying with Jack and Peter,”
he informed him, to which he was gifted with a very pronounced eye roll and
groan.

“No Beau, I
can stay home alone!” he protested, pushing up on his hands and knees on the
bed. “I’m a grown man! I don’t need to be babysat,” he said, glaring at his
Top, who simply went on packing his suitcase. “Beau!” he growled.

“This isn’t up
for debate, Dun,” the older man said simply, hoping that his boy would heed the
warning in his tone. “I’ve already arranged it with Jack.” Duncan let out a
huff at his Top and flopped back down into the sheets, hugging his pillow.

“You could at
least let me stay with Ryder,” he grumbled. He didn’t get along with Callum,
Peter and Jack’s brat, like he did with Ryder.

Beau shook
his head at the boy’s pouting, thinking grown
man, my ass. “Aaron has enough on his hands with his own two this week
without having to worry about you underfoot as well,” he said quietly. “He
works nights this week and Ryder starts working tomorrow, remember? Aaron
doesn’t have time to keep an eye on you too, Dun.”

Duncan went
on pouting. It wasn’t fair! He got along well with Aaron – the Top was so
easygoing! And Ryder was his best friend, and he didn’t even really mind Shiloh
so much. The thought of having to stay with Jack (who was tougher on him than
his own Top) and Peter (who was the complete opposite of Jack) and their brat
Callum (who Duncan fought with every time he saw the kid) was making him
miserable.

He kicked a
dramatic foot out and knocked over a pile of Beau’s shirts, looking to Beau to
gauge his reaction. Beau didn’t rise to the bait. He picked the shirts up,
refolded them and packed them away, giving Duncan’s perky behind a swat as he
past him.

“I don’t need
someone to keep an eye on me, Beau,”
he mumbled into his elbow. “I can stay home on my own,” he tried again, but the
look he got from his Top quietened him quickly. He went on glaring for some
time before Beau finished his packing and zipped his case. Without another
word, he patted Duncan’s butt appreciatively and padded out of the room.

Duncan tried
to keep up his pouting but the thought of being without Beau for five days and
knowing he only had one more night with him made him rethink that quickly. He
clambered out of bed and raced down the stairs with the usual heavy tread that
always made Beau think he was living with a baby elephant instead of his
handsome brat. Duncan found him in the kitchen, colliding with his lover’s back
in a hard hug.

“Beau! I’ll be
good now, I’m sorry!” he whined, turning his Top to get in his arms for a needy
hug. “I’m just mad ‘cause I don’t wanna be alone,” he pouted, very
convincingly.

Beau pressed a
gentle kiss to his hair. “I know, tiger. I’m going to miss you, you know. I
always do when I have to go away,” he soothed, running his strong hands up
Duncan’s broad back. He never understood the other Tops with their petite brats
– he loved being able to hold onto Duncan’s solid frame.

“What time are
you back on Saturday?” he asked, pouting. “Will you be home by bedtime?” He
hated sleeping alone and hoped Beau would be home in time to take him back to
their house so he wouldn’t have to spend Saturday night at Jack’s house too.

“If the flights
line up, I should make it to the airport by noon on Saturday. If you want to
pick me up when my flight lands, I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing your handsome
face,” he grinned. Duncan smiled and rose up the scant couple of centimeters to
brush Beau’s lips with a biting kiss.

“I’ll be
there!” he promised, leaning into his lover when Beau leaned against the
counter. “Do you want me to drop you off at the airport tomorrow morning too?”
he questioned, running his hands up and down along Beau’s broad chest. He
shimmied a bit on the spot when his lover’s hands dropped to his waist to hold
him there.

“Nah, Jack
said he’d drop me off in the morning before he headed to work – you work early
don’t you? I figured you’d already be gone by the time I had to get to the
airport for my flight at ten,” he explained when he saw Duncan’s forlorn
expression.

“How about we
have a nice night tonight before I go, alright?” he suggested, patting Duncan’s
behind. He gave his boy a sound kiss and turned him in the direction of the
fridge to get started on dinner. He intended to make it an evening Duncan
wouldn’t quickly forget.

Monday

When Duncan
came home from work Monday evening, he had every intention of locking the
doors, turning his phone off and ignoring the outside world. Toeing his shoes
off and tossing his keys, he wandered through to the living room to drop onto
the couch.

A sheet of
paper on the coffee table caught his eye and he grinned as he snatched it up. Beau
had left him a note!He wasn’t really
the romantic type, but he thought it was cute nonetheless. He settled back to
read it with a silly grin on his face, admiring as always Beau’s neat, looping
handwriting.

Dun,

I love you and I
miss you already, my boy. I’ll call when I land this evening – you’ll have to
be at Jack’s place to catch my call though! Be good and get your little butt
over to his place before he has to come find you! I have given him permission
to tan your little hide if he sees fit, so try not to give him a reason to do
so. I will see you Friday at four.

Duncan
groaned, tossing the letter aside. He stomped his way upstairs, knowing he
wouldn’t get out of this alive if he refused to behave. Jack was not the kind of Top he wanted to mess
with; he had big hands and he knew how to use ‘em! Grumbling to himself,
thinking of what he needed to pack for almost a whole week away from home, he froze
in the doorway of their room, suddenly grinning.

In the middle
of their bed, Beau had packed a small suitcase for him. He strode over and
picked it up, glancing in the closet briefly to be sure his favourite shirts
had been packed. Still smirking to himself, he ran down the stairs, donned his
shoes and grabbed his keys and headed for Jack’s house.

Jack seemed to
have been anticipating him, for when he knocked the door opened right away to
the older man. “Duncan,” he said, stepping aside to let him in. “Shoes off, bag
up to the guest room,” he directed. “Pete and Cal have dinner almost ready;
don’t be too long. If you want to grab a shower first, there are fresh towels
in the bathroom for you,” he assured him.

Duncan
awkwardly returned the man’s hug and then darted up the stairs, making as much
noise as possible. When Jack heard the shower running, he asked Pete to keep
dinner warm while they waited.

Showered and
feeling fresh, Duncan raced back down not even ten minutes later. He awkwardly
greeted Peter in the kitchen with a hug. “Dinner smells good,” he said
politely, taking the utensils that the Top handed to him. Cal carried glasses
of water to the table alongside him while Pete dished up their dinner.

“How was work,
Duncan?” Jack asked as he joined them at the table. “You work early tomorrow
again, so we’ll make sure you get to bed at a decent hour,” he said, and when
Duncan gave him a look, he explained: “Beau gave me your schedule before he
left.” With an effort, the brat resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his Top’s
thoroughness.

“Yes, I work
at 6:30 all week,” he said. “I usually go to bed at eleven when I work early,”
he said, keeping his voice level and trying to sound very sure of himself so
the Top wouldn’t have a reason to second-guess the late bedtime.

Callum snorted
at the attempt and even Peter had to chuckle. Jack merely smiled – he knew how
brats worked; Duncan had to test the waters. “I think Beau mentioned something
about reading in bed until nine-thirty,” he said, much to Duncan’s dismay. Beau
had thought of everything! He didn’t
argue, though; Beau wouldn’t appreciate hearing that his first night there had
been spent disrespecting the other Tops.

Clearing up
and socializing wasn’t hard, he found – Peter was always friendly and Callum
was making an obvious effort not to get on his nerves, which was nice. When
Beau called the house at seven-thirty, he waited with growing impatience while
Jack spoke to his Top before the phone was passed over to him. He raced up to
the bedroom to talk to his lover for nearly half an hour before Beau let him
go, and he flounced back to the couch to watch television with Cal and Peter.

It wasn’t so
terrible being with the other men until bedtime rolled around. Cal had already
been sent up at eight-thirty, but Duncan had managed to convince them to let
him finish the television show they were watching.

At nine, Peter
reached over and shut the TV off, patting Duncan’s outstretched feet. “Up to
bed now kiddo. Brush your teeth and get into bed. You can read for half an
hour; Jack will come up at nine-thirty to make sure your lights are out.”

Duncan
grumbled but dragged himself up off the couch to do as he was told. He gave
Peter one last imploring look, batting his lashes in his direction, but the Top
wasn’t falling for his charms. “I bet that doesn’t even work on Beau, you
little brat. Get moving,” he said in a stern voice, but he was grinning.

Duncan ran up
the stairs and did as he had been told. When he opened his suitcase, he found
the book he was currently reading at the bottom of the suitcase along with his
raggedy stuffed lion. He pulled on the soft pajamas Beau had packed, shouldered
into Beau’s old college sweater and slid into bed with the stuffed animal and
book.

He read until
Jack knocked at the door and he obediently set the book aside on the nightstand.
Jack double-checked the alarm clock for him, moved his phone away from the bed
to plug it in and tucked Duncan in, much to Duncan’s embarrassment. Jack was
gentle and kind, if a little awkward when it came to other people’s brats, but
he was Beau’s oldest and best friend and Duncan trusted him.

“Get some
sleep, Duncan. If you need anything, come and wake me up, okay? Don’t let me
catch you out of bed without good reason – I know Beau’s rules regarding
staying in bed through the night,” he said, warning in his tone as he smoothed
Duncan’s hair back from his forehead. He kissed the boy’s temple and made sure
he was securely tucked under the heavy quilt. “Sweet dreams, tiger,” he purred,
and Duncan blushed as he ducked under the blankets until he had gone.

Tuesday:

Duncan was out
of the house by six am, stopping for a coffee like he usually did in the
mornings. He had been careful not to wake anyone while he showered and got
ready to leave. Arriving on the site around six-twenty, he sat with Ryder and smoked
until they were directed to start on schedule.

Around
eight, a police cruiser pulled up and he saw the officer speaking to one of the
other traffic control workers; he stood on his toes to look over his sign at
their exchange. When he was waved over, he left his sign and hurried to the
cruiser.

“You forgot
your lunch,” Jack said simply when he had approached, offering him the brown
bag lunch he had packed for the brat. Duncan flushed and thanked him, taking
it. Jack gave him a broad smile, told him to have a good day and lay off the
cigarettes and then drove off, leaving Duncan embarrassedly holding his
homemade lunch.

He stuffed
it in his bag and hurried to get back to his post, directing traffic once more.
Ryder gave him a grin from where he was, taunting him with a tongue out in his
direction; Duncan ignored him.

Ryder
teased him endlessly about his bag lunch even as he opened his own that Aaron
had packed him. Duncan was a bit jealous that Jack and Aaron did this sort of
thing all the time for their boys; Beau let him pack his own lunches or go
hungry at his discretion.

As he dug to
the bottom of the bag and pulled out the plastic baggy of cookies, he grinned
at the scrawled note that he found, from Peter – Have a great day! Be safe! Eat all your lunch or Jack won’t be happy.
(;

When Jack got
home that evening, Duncan was sitting out on the front steps smoking. The Top
didn’t look too pleased to see him with the offensive cigarette but he kept his
mouth shut – he knew Beau let Duncan smoke just as Aaron let Ryder. He wasn’t
his brat to take in hand, though sometimes he wanted to.

“Thanks for
the lunch, Jack,” Duncan grinned up at him when he approached, finishing his
cigarette and stamping it out on the concrete steps, much to Jack’s dismay. “I
ate everything but the cauliflower – I gave that to a squirrel,” he announced
as he hopped to his feet. He didn’t have a key and so had been waiting for one
of the three men to come home since a little after four.

Jack let him
in ahead of him and Duncan ran up the stairs. “I’m gonna shower!” Duncan
shouted down to him, as if he needed to explain what he was doing. When Jack
didn’t respond, he came barreling back down. “Jack! I’m in the shower if you
need me!”

Jack gave him
a look from where he had crashed on the couch and waved him off. The brat
bounded away, satisfied that the Top wouldn’t come looking for him anytime
soon.

When he
finally reemerged, Peter and Cal were home and dinner was on the table. Cal
gave Duncan a shy smile as they ate, talking quietly with his Tops about his
day. He could understand why men like this went for guys like Callum and Shiloh
– they were small and lean and boyish and they just exuded neediness like a
beacon. Callum was really quite cute he had to admit, even if he was just a terrible brat.

He didn’t
think he was like them; he was a lot more independent and capable. Sure he
missed Beau but he didn’t need him like these other brats did – with
twenty-four hour surveillance and so many restrictions. If Duncan wanted to visit
Ryder, Beau let him go without much thought; here Cal was arguing with Peter
that he hadn’t seen his friend in a week and his Tops weren’t relenting!

“I wanted to
stop over and see Ryder later,” Duncan piped up, looking to Jack. “I could take
Cal with me to say hi to Shiloh?” he suggested. Callum looked to him with such
hope in his eyes and murmured “please Jack?” in a way that Duncan was sure
would melt any scrooge’s heart. Jack softened like butter and agreed, on the
condition that they were home by 8:30 at the latest.

Excused from
tidying by Peter, Duncan grabbed his keys and tugged Cal out to his truck. It
took the kid some time to scrabble up into the tall truck and he buckled up
with a sheepish grin at Duncan.

“Thanks for
your help,” he said. “Jack never lets me do anything unless either he or
Peter’s with me.” He rolled his window down while Duncan turned the music up.
In no time they were turning into the lane and he parked his truck alongside
Aaron’s car.

They were
barely out of the truck when Ryder came out with a grin to show him his bike
and Shiloh waved shyly from the doorway as Cal climbed down from the truck and
went up to sit on the swing with him.

The boys were
whipping up and down the street on Ryder’s newly painted bike when Aaron flagged
them down, phone in hand. Duncan dashed over to the Top to take the phone with
a grin.

“Beau?” he
greeted, moving out of earshot of the others.

“Hi tiger.
How’s my handsome boy?” Beau purred in his ear. Duncan blushed as he squatted
on the lawn, pulling at the grass. “Hi Beau. Ya miss me?” he demanded as he
flopped back in the grass.

“Yeah, I miss
you every second, kid,” Beau promised. “Are you behaving for Jack and Peter?”
he questioned. Duncan grinned. “Yes Beau! I’m being so good. You’d be impressed. I think I deserve a medal or somethin’
this time, Beau,” he teased. He loved to hear Beau’s rumbling chuckle; it made
his heart flutter.

“How’s work?
How’s the conference? Do you have a nice hotel room this time? Did ya eat
dinner yet?” he demanded, the questions coming out rapid-fire. Beau laughed
again at his brat.

“It’s been
pretty boring so far,” Beau admitted. “Day two of sitting on my butt, listening
to speeches and plans and everything else that’ll probably never see the light
of day,” he said. “The hotel is nice, though; I had dinner in my room and I
went for a run in the gym tonight. I thought maybe I’d try and seduce you over
the phone, but when I called Jack’s he said you were with Ryder, so I guess
that’s out of the question, huh?”

Duncan cursed
himself for being stupid enough to go out when he could have been home
listening to Beau in his ear telling him what to put where. “What if I went
home now? Or you call me in a bit, Beau?” he whined.

Duncan heard
him sigh. “Sorry tiger. It’s late here already. I don’t think I’ll be able to
stay up until you get your butt home.” Duncan chewed his lip.

“But Beau-”

“Don’t ‘but
Beau’ me, brat. I love you very much and I miss you, but I’ve got to be headed
to bed at a decent hour. Have a good time with Ryder and behave yourself for
Jack and Pete,” he warned. Duncan swallowed a sniffle and hugged his knees to
his chest.

“I love you
Beau. You’ll be home Saturday, huh?” he asked sadly. “Call me tomorrow? Please?
I’ll be home tomorrow and we can talk all night, okay? Maybe Jack’ll let me use
his computer if you want to chat?” he said, the whine evident in his voice.

“I’ll call you
tomorrow, seven-thirty your time bud. I love you very much. Go have fun with
Ryder now. I’ll call you later,” he promised. Duncan responded to the kissing
noise he made into the mouthpiece and he smiled despite himself. He said
another quick I love you before he
ended the call.

He couldn’t
help the tears that came unbidden to his eyes.

Wednesday

Duncan was up
in the early hours of the morning. He had tried everything he could to stay in
bed where he knew he was supposed to be - he had tried all of Beau’s breathing
exercises, counted sheep, read by the light of his phone. Nothing was working,
and so by three-thirty he found himself carefully crossing the landing to head
downstairs to try and get something to eat.

He had only
been out on the patio in the dark and solitude of the backyard for a few
minutes when he heard footsteps approaching. Turning, he saw Jack moving across
the floor towards him and he worried that he was in trouble until the older man
pressed something into his hands and ushered him out to the swing, closing the
sliding door behind them.

Duncan stared
into the swirling liquid while Jack set the swing in motion, rubbing his
shoulders. “It’s warmed milk and brandy, Dun,” he told him. “It’ll help you
sleep.” He lifted the mug to the boy’s mouth and Duncan swallowed a healthy
mouthful, making a face at the lingering sting of the brandy. He tipped the
glass up himself after, enjoying the warmth.

He resisted
Jack’s discrete attempt at manhandling him into his side but he didn’t protest
when Jack resumed his gentle circles up and down his back. They sat in the
silence of the early morning and Duncan sipped his drink, trying to force a
calm he didn’t feel. Suddenly, and not sure quite why, he found himself crying
into his hand beside Jack. This time he allowed the Top to draw him into his
side where he clutched at the man’s shirt and sobbed openly.

Jack went on
swinging, silent and calming, until Duncan got himself under control. The brat
didn’t move away from his side, however, and Jack hugged him tightly around the
shoulders, thumping his side.

“I know that you
miss Beau,” Jack said finally, voice low, chest rumbling. Duncan ducked his
head to hide his blush, though it wasn’t possible to see in the dark anyways.
“You’re allowed to miss him; nobody is judging you for that,” he said softly.
Duncan’s fingers tightened in his shirt.

“You’re quite
safe with me, Duncan. Beau trusts me; do you?” he asked. The boy let out a
quiet sniffle, nodding very faintly against his chest. Jack smiled, patting his
back. He let the silence lengthen again, simply rubbing Duncan’s back until the
boy let out a quiet yawn against his chest. He stilled the swing, took the mug
from Duncan and drew him to his feet.

“Come now,
kid, before you fall asleep out here,” he teased, taking the boy back up to the
guest room. Duncan slid under the covers when Jack moved them aside for him.
“Get some sleep, tiger,” he said, sounding just as calm and reassuring as Beau
always sounded. Duncan didn’t move away when he leaned down to press a warm
kiss to his dark head.

“G’night
Jack,” Duncan yawned into the pillow as he rolled onto his stomach. He was
asleep before Jack had closed the door and the man lingered a moment to make
sure he was really asleep before he climbed back into his own bed and tugged
his needy brat close.

Thursday

The sound of sirens didn’t seem to
be too much of a deterrent for the four young men on their street bikes. Two
were standing on the side of the old dirt road, cheering the other two on – one
executed an impressive jump over the ramp that had been set up and then came to
a skidding halt at the sight of the police cruiser parking nearby.

“Shit,” Duncan muttered under his
breath as he straightened on his bike and took his helmet off. One of the young
men watching looked equally nervous at the sight of the broad-shouldered
officer getting out of his car.

“Duncan,” Jack greeted as he
approached. Some silent motion had Ryder shoving off the fence and trotting
over, helmet in hand, head down. Jack did not look pleased as the other two
gathered nervously.

“I believe this is not a registered
stunting ground,” he said simply, giving the boys a hard look. One of their
friends wilted under his gaze and shook his head faintly. “N-no sir,” he said.
Duncan’s brow furrowed. “The park was too busy, Jack; there were too many
people there,” he informed the man. “Loren has his gear so we thought we’d come
out here where it’s quiet and get some practice in,” he said, standing as tall
as he could in front of the Top.

The other young men seemed surprised
that he knew the officer. Ryder remained silent, head bowed, and the two others
– Danny and Loren – tried to look away. Jack held Duncan’s gaze, a silent
battle waging, and then he pointed to the equipment behind them.

“Get this cleaned up and get out of
here. You know the laws on stunting – you either go to the appropriate venues
or you don’t partake. This is your first and only warning,” Jack said, to all
of them. “If I catch you again, you’ll all be fined.”

Duncan watched Loren and Danny
scramble to put the ramps and jumps away in Danny’s truck. Ryder was still
looking at the pavement as if he found it the most interesting thing in the
world, avoiding Jack’s eyes.

“Josiah Makenna Campbell, I know you
have been warned about this before,” Jack said quietly, and Ryder looked up at
the use of his loathed full name, brow furrowed. “I also recall stating last time
that that would be your last warning,” he reminded, and Ryder, understanding
dawning on him, shook his head fiercely, eyes welling.

“I have spoken to Aaron about your
escapades numerous times; so this time will not be a warning for you, my boy,”
Jack said, taking out his notepad and beginning to write up his ticket. “I’m
sorry you weren’t able to learn the lessons that Aaron tried to teach you – if
indeed he tried at all,” he said, knowing how easy Aaron tended to be on the
brats in his life. “But I hope this will make you understand that your actions
have very real consequences,” he said, handing him the ticket when he was
finished.

Ryder hung his head, scrubbing at his
eyes in embarrassment. Jack hooked him close and hugged him tightly, kissing
the top of his dark head. “You need to learn, Ryde. I’m sorry. Tell Aaron he
can call me if he needs to discuss anything,” he said, refraining from adding: or if he needs to borrow a paddle or belt.

Duncan didn’t look at his friend, aware
of how upset his Top was going to be with him. Warnings for stunting were one
thing – but getting a ticket? He knew Aaron wouldn’t take that lightly, despite
Jack’s obvious belief that the other Top was shirking on his responsibilities.

“Go get your bike put away, Ryder,” Jack
directed. When Ryder shuffled away, Jack turned to Duncan, reaching for the
brat. Duncan ducked out of his reach and gave him a nervous look. “Dun, don’t
make a scene,” Jack said in a low grumble; Duncan stood still.

Jack turned his face up with a gentle
hand on his chin and appraised the boy – the set of his jaw, the determined
look in his eyes. “Beau would be very disappointed in you, kid,” he said
quietly, and recognized the look of hurt that crossed his features at those
words. Duncan tried to pull away again but Jack had caught him by his upper arm
and held him in place.

“I had hoped we wouldn’t have to do this
while Beau was away, Duncan, but you’ve really given me no choice. I want you
to take Ryder home and then go straight to my place. Wait in the corner in my
office upstairs until I get home – if Peter asks, tell him I am dealing with
you. We will finish this discussion at home,” he said.

Duncan nodded faintly and fled when Jack
released his arm, gathering his bike to lift up into the back of his truck.
Ryder was in the old beater already and Duncan waved to Danny and Loren who
left ahead of them. Jack waited until the two trucks were out of sight before
he walked back to his cruiser and headed into town.

It was nearly an hour later that he
parked the cruiser in the lane and headed inside. He was pleased to see
Duncan’s truck was parked on the street in front of the house. He hung his
jacket and aligned the shoes neatly – everyone here had a habit of kicking
their shoes off and leaving them where they lie, which drove him endlessly
insane.

Peter spotted him from the kitchen and he
detoured there first, accepting his lover’s gentle kisses. “He doesn’t look
happy, Jack. Wouldn’t tell me what happened, just said you were dealing with
him. What did he do?” he asked, brow furrowed. “His nose has been in that
corner for forty-five minutes! If he’s anything like Cal, he’ll be in a state
by now,” the younger Top warned.

Jack shook his head, kissing his cheek.
“He’s nothing like our Cal,” he grinned. “He’s going to be spitting fire the
second I walk in the door.” Peter watched his lover’s face, concerned, and Jack
gave him a tight hug.

“I’m going to shower. A few minutes more
won’t hurt him. Stay down here; if Callum comes home, keep him down here,” he
added as an afterthought before he padded up the stairs to the bathroom. The
shower was much needed and very relaxing; he could feel the tension running
down the drain with the scalding water.

Emerging, he dried and dressed in jeans
and a sweater, drying his hair and leaving it to its own devices – something
Peter was forever chiding him about. He selected a well-worn leather belt from
his drawer, testing its strength. Then he padded softly down the hall and into
the office, closing the door behind him.

“Duncan, come here,” he said to the boy
in the corner. Duncan made no move to leave the safety of the space, head bent,
his shoulders around his ears. Leaning against the desk, legs crossed at the
ankles and arms folded over his chest, Jack looked quite intimidating. The
heavy belt hung from his right hand.

“Duncan Weston Hayes, I will not ask
again,” he growled. Duncan jumped at the tone and spun around, walking out of
the corner towards the big Top. He was just as tall, if not taller than his own
Top, but in broadness they were almost matched. Looking up the broad expanse of
Jack’s chest, he could almost imagine it was his Beau standing there holding
the belt.

“Duncan, you know very well the dangers
of stunting,” Jack began without preamble. “You have seen firsthand what can
happen when stunting in public places goes wrong. Was it not your friend last
year who was hit by that car when he was thrown off his bike?” he reminded,
seeing Duncan’s hands curl into fists at his sides.

“And what would I have told Beau, hm?
Should I have just called him up and let him know he needed to cut his trip
short because his partner was on life support in the hospital and might not
make it?” he asked. Duncan muttered something that Jack didn’t catch and the
man stood his full height, pushing off the desk.

“Duncan Weston, LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM
TALKING TO YOU!” he bellowed. Duncan jumped, looking as if he might wet
himself, and his head shot up, but he didn’t lose all of his defiance. “Do you
act this way with Beau?” the Top questioned. Duncan shrank a bit, shoulders
dropping a little of their defensive height.

“N-no sir,” he muttered.

“I didn’t think so,” Jack said. “I expect
to be treated with the same respect you show your own Top, Duncan, and you know
that,” he said. “Nothing has changed since the last time you were left in my
care.” Duncan nodded, hot tears coming unbidden to his eyes. Jack watched the
slow progression of one that fell from its holding and tracked its way down the
young man’s cheek before Duncan brushed them away and tried to set his jaw.

“You know how Beau feels about stunting.
You know how I feel about it. If you
are in the correct environment for it, where the equipment is secure and the
course is monitored then that is a different thing altogether. I still don’t
approve of it fully, but at least you are a bit safer where you are being
watched and there are fewer external risks,” he said.

“What if your friend’s equipment broke?
Or skidded across the pavement when you had made a jump? You would have been hurt, Duncan! You weren’t even wearing
full gear! You think I want to get a phone call saying come collect your
skinned brat from the roadside?” he asked, angry and obviously upset.

“N-no,” Duncan whispered, hanging his
head. He managed to blurt out “I’m not your brat” defiantly, still finding it
hard to meet Jack’s dark eyes fully. Jack’s mouth quirked up at the corner at
that comment, and he shook his head at the boy. “You’re my pseudo-brat, kid. I
wouldn’t be having this discussion with you if you weren’t,” he reminded, and
Duncan blushed and hung his head.

“Do you understand why I am upset,
Duncan?” he asked. “You were not only doing something illegal but also highly
dangerous. And, furthermore,” he said, “I had no idea where you were! You know
my rules – they’re very similar to Beau’s. You tell me where you are going to
be – we both have phones; call or text me and let me know. Or if not me, then
Peter. You are in my care and I need to know where you are,” he said gruffly.

“So. By my count that’s three things
deserving of punishment today, at least. First, for breaking my rules and not
letting me know where you were, second for stunting illegally in a public
place, and third for putting yourself and your friends at risk of injury or
death with shoddy equipment,” he counted off. “A fourth if we count your
attitude and insolence just now,” he said, to which Duncan paled.

Jack picked up the belt that at some
point he had laid behind him on the wooden desk. Gripping the buckle, he curled
it once around his fist and let the end hang. “Pants and boxers off, hands on
the desk, in position. And don’t tell me you don’t know what position – I’ve
heard Beau belt you before,” Jack said, moving away from the desk.

Duncan unbuttoned his jeans slowly,
refusing to beg him not to. He wasn’t like the others – he wasn’t a little wuss
like Cal or Shiloh who pleaded with their Tops not to hit them. He knew he
deserved this. It didn’t make it any easier to accept, of course, which is why
he took his time getting the pants undone and then pushing them down his hips.
Unashamed of his nakedness, or at least trying not to be ashamed, he gave Jack
one last look of defiance before he turned and leaned down, hands flat on the
desk beneath him.

“Ten for each offense,” the Top said
behind him. “And fifteen for your attitude, Duncan; I won’t tolerate it,” he
said, and when the boy had stilled, he raised the belt and began. All colour
drained from Duncan’s body and pooled in his behind at each swat.

He knew how much of an effort it was to
hold in his cries of pain. After the first twelve, Duncan began to falter, feet
moving incrementally on the carpet beneath them in a tiny dance of anguish. He
loosened his bite on his lower lip when he tasted blood and his fingers tried
to dig into the varnished wood beneath his palms.

After fifteen, he let out a few whimpers
and threw his hands back to try to cover his ass. “Put your hands on the desk,
Duncan! Don’t move,” Jack warned, forcing him back into the position when the
kid refused. He resumed his barrage. At thirty, he stopped; Duncan was openly
crying now, uncaring that he looked just like every other brat in the world
right now. Jack’s hand on his back was a welcome thing and he leaned into the
touch while the man soothed him a moment.

“We’re not finished yet, Duncan,” Jack
said, steeling himself. He settled him back against the desk and shortened the
length of the belt again. Keeping his hand on Duncan’s back, holding him by
force in place, he rained down the last fifteen swats with a lecture about
getting his attitude in check before Beau got home. Finished, he turned Duncan
into his arms and hugged him, sinking down into the desk chair with the boy
between his knees on the floor before Duncan’s trembling legs gave out on him.

Duncan was sobbing and gasping, trying to
reach around to touch his blazing backside. Jack hugged him hard, kissing the
top of his head. “It’s over, Duncan, it’s done. You’re okay,” he breathed,
feeling the kid’s arms snake around his waist before he buried his face in Jack’s
stomach, crying hard. Jack hugged him and smoothed his short hair, whispering
nothings to him as the boy calmed incrementally in his arms.

It took some time before he was able to
help Duncan to his feet, noting the trembling in his thighs still. He turned
him to examine his behind, checking the welts there with an expert eye. “You
won’t sit pleasantly for a couple of days, tiger, but you’ll be okay,” he
promised, hugging the boy back to himself. Subdued, Duncan clung to him a while
longer, settled in his lap on his hip so his butt wasn’t in contact with the
man’s jean-clad thighs beneath him. Jack kissed the top of his head as he
smoothed his hands down his back and Duncan burrowed his face into his neck.

When he was once more breathing normally,
Jack stood and got him on his feet. “Go wash up, tiger, and get into some
sweatpants,” he said. He handed him his boxers and jeans and let Duncan give
him another shy hug. “Go on, Pete probably has dinner waiting. Five minutes
please.” He watched Duncan disappear down the hall and the bathroom door closed
– he could imagine the kid was examining his own butt in the mirror, the
universal action for all freshly-spanked brats.

When he came down for dinner, Jack didn’t
say anything but Duncan was grateful for the cushion Jack had slipped onto his chair
in the dining room.

Friday

Jack wasn’t surprised to find Duncan
more subdued the next morning. He had gotten up early and made coffee so that
when Duncan came downstairs from his shower a little after six, the older man
was waiting for him. He put bread in the toaster and pushed the mug of
sweetened coffee towards him, smiling faintly. Duncan sheepishly moved around
the counter and into Jack’s outstretched arms, burying into his warm embrace.

“Peter packed your lunch, kid. Make
sure you eat all of it,” he said. “When I get home tonight, we’re going out for
Chinese, so don’t go overdoing it with snacks at work,” he teased, knowing his
propensity for leaving on his breaks to get sweets at the local coffee shop now
that Ryder was working with him.

When the toast popped, he gave
Duncan’s back a rough rub and turned him to spread his toast and eat. He leaned
against the counter and sipped his coffee. When it was time for Duncan to
leave, he gave the Top another hug, grabbed his lunch and dashed out. Jack
heard the sound of the truck fading away into the distance and then he went
back upstairs to climb into bed for the last half hour before his alarm went
off for work.

Duncan was home by three-thirty and
he sent Jack a text to let him know he was in the backyard, lounging in the sun
so that the Top wouldn’t find cause to spank him again tonight for not knowing
where he was. He must have fallen asleep in the sunlight, for he woke to a
terrible tickling sensation under his nose and opened his eyes to a grinning
Callum above him, a blade of grass held under his nose.

“Cal!” he growled, rolling onto his
stomach to haul himself up. Callum giggled and rolled away, squealing as Duncan
chased him across the yard. “Duncan! We gotta go, Jack’s waiting!” Cal
shrieked. Duncan caught the slippery brat at the edge of the garden and tickled
him fiercely, laughing himself at the boy’s loud giggling. Peter came to his
brat’s rescue, opening the back gate.

“Come on boys, Jack’s getting
impatient,” he said, watching as Duncan released the boy and ran to the gate to
escape the yard. Cal followed him and clambered into the back of Jack’s SUV and
they were off to their favourite Chinese restaurant.

Almost two hours later, stuffed
full, Duncan wanted nothing more than to go home when Jack suggested they go
for a stroll along the river. Cal thought it was a grand idea and Peter was
agreeable to anything. With the bill paid, they left the restaurant on foot and
walked down to the familiar paths near the university.

Cal walked hand in hand with Peter,
keeping up with his long-legged Top ahead of the other two. Duncan was tired
and too full to do much more than maintain a leisurely stroll. Jack kept pace
with the brat, hands in his pockets.

“I spoke with Beau this afternoon,” Jack
said quietly. Duncan looked up, concern mingling with excitement on his
features at the mention of his Top. Jack smiled faintly at the boy. “He’s
alright, kid. I just wanted to let him know we were going out for dinner so he
wouldn’t call and miss us,” he said. Duncan’s shoulders dropped as he relaxed,
and Jack reached out to tug him close, an arm firmly around his shoulders.

“What’s eating you, tiger?” he asked
quietly. Duncan shrugged and looked up at Jack briefly, then back to the gravel
path underfoot. Jack dug his fingers into the boy’s upper arm. “Talk, you
little mute,” he grinned, and Duncan laughed softly.

“Think Beau’s going to be mad?” he asked
Jack quietly, worried for the fate of his already sore behind. Jack gave him a
squeeze, shaking his head. “We dealt with it, remember?” he soothed. “Or was it
not a strong enough punishment?” he teased the boy. Duncan squirmed and let out
a louder laugh when Jack tickled his side.

“No! It was enough! More than enough,” he
squealed, trying to pull free from the Top’s grip. Peter up ahead glanced back
at the sounds of them roughhousing and shook his head at them before continuing
along the riverbank with Cal.

Jack stopped his attempts to tickle the
brat and simply tugged him back against his side. “Why do you think Beau’s
going to be upset?” he asked him quietly, rubbing his arm. Duncan shrugged and
let out a little sigh.

“You said…you said Beau would be very
disappointed in me,” he said quietly. “Have you told him yet?” he asked, looking
up at the man. Jack shook his head, eyes softening. “No, Dun. I haven’t spoken
to him about it yet. I will be telling him what happened, and that I dealt with
it. Beau won’t be disappointed; he’ll understand that we have handled it and
laid the issue to rest. It’s in the past; it’s all over now,” he assured him.

Duncan stopped and hugged Jack hard. The
older man ran his hands down the boy’s back, hugging him back as tightly as he
could, one of his crushing embraces that went right down through his bones.
“Thanks Jack,” he whispered. “For letting me stay with you and Peter,” he added
in a mumble, nuzzling the Top’s jaw.

Jack gave him a rough nuzzle and thumped
his back. “You’re always welcome with us, kid. No need to thank us,” he assured
him. Beau was his dearest friend; he would do anything for his brat, just as he
knew Beau would do anything for his Cal.

Duncan pulled away when he saw Cal and
Peter returning, and he shimmied out of Cal’s way as the little brat barreled
down the path and flung himself into Jack’s arms. He grinned as they spun and
Peter jogged over to join them, laughing.

He missed Beau with a suddenness that
shocked him. He might not be just like the other brats, but he was still a brat. And a brat without a
Top was like a boat without a sail, floating aimlessly. He could still be a brat, but who was going to keep him
in line when things got out of hand? Who was going to unfurl the sails and keep
him in the current if he didn’t have a Top to do it for him?

He understood why Beau wouldn’t let him
stay home alone while he was away. He had always balked at it, at what he
perceived as being treated like a child in need of a caregiver when its parent
was out. But deep down he understood the subconscious, acute need of a brat for their Top. His
absence was a dull ache; an anxiety-inducing crush on his heart.

Jack motioned for him to follow and
Duncan ran to catch up with the three men further up the path. He hesitated a
moment before he caught Jack’s outstretched hand and felt the answering squeeze
of the surrogate Top’s clasp. Tomorrow he would have Beau back; tomorrow he
wouldn’t have to worry about a thing because his partner took on the heavy burden
of both of their worries and concerns.

Tomorrow.

But tonight - tonight too he knew he had
nothing to fear. Jack was capable of shouldering the weight of anything on his
broad shoulders. If he said everything was fine, Duncan knew it to be true.

Saturday

Duncan had never been a
patient boy. Waiting alongside Jack in the airport, he tapped his fingers on
the armrest between them until Jack caught his hand and stilled it. Duncan
grinned up at him sheepishly and sank lower into his chair.

“Settle down, tiger. He’ll be here
any minute,” he said quietly, keeping an eye on the screen that notified
passengers of arrivals, delays and cancellations. He checked his watch and
stood when he saw that Flight 182 had landed and was disembarking.

Duncan jumped to follow him,
trailing him to the gate where other people were milling about. In no time
passengers were beginning to come through the sliding glass doors, bearing
luggage and coats, looking tired and annoyed. Duncan watched a little boy run
to greet his mother and he smiled at the innocence of the display.

When he looked up from the scene at
hand, he saw his Top. Beau was struggling with his rolling luggage and he
looked more than slightly frustrated as he dropped the bag and bent to retrieve
it. Duncan grinned and escaped from Jack’s arm over his shoulders to run to his
partner, uncaring that he looked very much like the toddler with its mother.

He must have shouted, because Beau looked
up from his bag and then stood, arms opened to his lover. Duncan was sure Beau’s
smile could have made even the darkest day bright. He flung himself at his Top
with abandon and Beau readily gave up the fight with his bag to spin his brat
in his arms, somewhat mindful of the people still walking out behind him.
Landing kisses on the boy’s face and lips, melting at the sound of his
giggling, he hugged him hard and Duncan felt the lingering impression of his
touch long after he had pulled away.

Beau touched his cheek with a gentle
palm, his smile echoing Duncan’s. “My boy. God, I missed you, Duncan,” he
breathed. “Help me get this bag; I want to be home,” he said, patting the boy’s
cheek. Duncan kissed him again, stealing his breath, before he grabbed up his
lover’s bag with ease and took his hand.

Jack grinned from where he stood
watching, shaking his head at the men walking towards him. Duncan blushed and
ducked his head, letting Beau go to hug Jack briefly.

“Thanks for keeping my boy safe.”

Duncan held onto the back of Beau’s
shirt, half-listening to the Tops. He could practically feel Beau’s familiar
rumble through his grip on his shirt as he pressed against him. He felt Beau’s
arm come around to draw him back to his side, hugging him hard with an arm
around his shoulder. He reveled in the kisses his lover dropped in his dark
hair as they walked out to find Jack’s SUV.

And when Beau stopped to kiss him,
sweet and pressing in the parking lot, ignoring the teasing eye roll they
received from the other Top, Duncan felt the wind come back in his sails and
set him on course once again. Jack had kept him anchored, safe in harbor until
Beau returned, and for that he was grateful.